


The First Real Mission

by Carter_Ash_Official



Series: Trooper Tales [3]
Category: swtor - Fandom
Genre: Havoc Squad - Freeform, Ord Mantell, swtor-trooper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 08:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8972995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carter_Ash_Official/pseuds/Carter_Ash_Official
Summary: Orannus goes into Drelliad Village and is actually in a real fight. He does not want to go through that again.





	

Orannus wiped the sweat out of his eyes and grimaced at the tiny little village.

_I don’t want to do this alone. Or at all._

He briefly entertained the idea of hiking it back to the walker and insisting on taking some of the other soldiers with him, but no, Kolos had wanted them to defend the walker from the Separatists that would come to scavenge for parts and weapons.

So it was a solo mission into a village filled with Separatists equipped with armor-piercing missiles.

_What would one of those do to me?_

He shoved that thought away and set his rifle to its highest setting.

Orannus bobbed around trees and ducked behind rock outcrops.

The Separatists didn’t spy him slowly creeping closer, even with him in a blue uniform against orange grass.

_Maybe they aren’t as well equipped or trained as Kolos thought? Could the AP missiles have been a fluke?_

He peeked out from around the edge of a boulder and eyed them. If he squinted, their nasty yellow armor almost made them look like Colicoids. Almost. They were still people.

_You have to. Or they’ll just keep blowing walkers up._

Orannus took deep breaths. Checked his rifle again. Relieved himself against a tree. Made sure his belt was sitting right on him. That there wasn’t any lint on his sleeves.

_Stop stalling. You need to take care of this._

One last deep breath.

And Orannus marched around the boulder, rifle resting comfortably against his shoulder, and he fired at the nearest Separatists.

They dropped.

He ran forward, rifle spitting out more fire at a twi’lek with a near-broken cannon. Orannus paused at a corner, glanced around the corner.

_Breathe._

He spun and fired at the two soldiers waiting for him.

A bolt narrowly missed his chest.

_Come on, you need to do this fast._

Orannus jogged around one of the homes and switched his rifle’s setting to blast a Separatist back a couple feet, chest partially missing.

_Don’t look. Keep moving._

He ducked under a swing of a vibrosword and slung his rifle behind him, dodging a jab and delivering a quick punch to the bearer’s nose.

There was an ugly crunching sound, and the swordsman spat out blood. “Buck the Rebubliff!” he declared through a mouthful of blood.

Orannus kicked out at the guy’s knee and twisted his arm.

The sword clattered to the ground.

Fear filled the guy’s eyes. “Blease!” He held up his empty hands. “Blease!”

Orannus pulled his rifle around and-

And-

He couldn’t. “Get out of here.”

The man nodded and clutched his nose as he ran away.

Orannus raised his rifle as he exited the little alley between house and security wall. Another pair of Separatists dropped.

One burst out from behind a shipping crate, something glinting in her hand.

He fired.

The thing in her hand exploded.

_Grenade._

Orannus continued past the splattered corpse.

_Don’t look. Keep moving._

He forced a deep breath.

_There._

An open crate of advanced missiles surrounded by Separatists.

Orannus crouched down and rested his rifle on a storage bin. He took careful aim. A deep breath. Sweat slid down his back. And pulled the trigger.

The explosion from the missiles was bigger than he’d expected. Heat rolled across him, debris rained down, smoke ruined visibility.

_Get out. Get out now._

Orannus rolled to his feet and took off sprinting towards the village entrance.

_Boulder. Boulder. Boulder._

He dove behind the rock and wiped at his face.

His hands were shaking. Eyes stinging. Heart pounding.

_Deep breath._

But no, his lungs were pumping too fast.

Orannus leaned back against the rock and forced himself to calm down.

He had to put in a call to Kolos that he’d gotten rid of the missiles. It took his fingers a few tries to find the right buttons.

A hologram flickered to life.

Kolos, with bandages wrapped around his midsection.

“I did it, Sir, took care of the missiles.” Orannus cleared his throat. His voice had shook.

Kolos grinned. “Nice work, Baby. You got a talent, taking on Drelliad Village with no support or armor. There’s no denying that.” The grin turned into a grimace. “I didn’t have much success. This walker isn’t walking anytime soon.”

“I’m sure you did your best.”

_Don’t say that, you sound like a wimp._

“Thanks, kid,” Kolos said wryly before he sighed. He got quiet for a moment. “Shame about the driver, the poor guy never had a chance.” His head swiveled as he looked around. “I’m going to stay here and salvage all the goodies off this wreck before someone else does.”

_Before the Separatists get to you._

“Don’t worry, I got your bag as top priority. You better head to Fort Garnik.”

_I- Where is that?_

Kolos gestured to Orannus. “Be sure to keep a lookout for Seps on your way to the fort. They can come at you out of nowhere.”

_How? Do they have stealth belts?_

Orannus nodded. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled.”

“Stay sharp out there. Kolos out.” The hologram disappeared.

_Fort Garnik. A fort can’t be hard to miss. Like a Nerf in a garden, right?_

Orannus scanned the hills and saw… nothing.

_Shit._

He pulled out his datapad and flicked through too many holo-messages.

_Where… is… here! Coordinates._

Orannus spun in place and started east, towards the center of the island. The paths he found were steep, well-worn, and sometimes rocks slipped out from under his boots.

The humidity was making him sweat, and that was making his hands slippery on his rifle.

_At least it’s not raining. That’d suck._

Orannus crested a hill and looked down at the village. It wasn’t that far from the little landing platform he’d arrived at. He could see a soot-stained wall in the village, where the missiles had been.

_Don’t think. Keep moving._

He continued his trek up through the grass.

_…Shoulda been a nerf-herder…_

A twig snapped behind him.

Orannus dropped into a roll and came up with his rifle at the ready.

Some big beast lumbered by. It was slowly devouring the grass and staring at him with disinterest.

“Hey big guy.” Orannus reached out and rubbed the beast’s nose. “You know where Fort Garnik is?”

It didn’t answer.

“Thank you.” He turned back around and went back to humming whatever song was stuck in his head.

_Shoulda been a nerf-herder… Shoulda learned to rope and riiiiide-_

Something made him stop humming.

Orannus pulled his rifle around and listened, scanning the trees.

A soft footfall, on his left. The grass rustling in a way different from the wind.

He slowly turned and saw a trio of Separatists sneaking towards him, knives in hand. Orannus made eye contact with the middle one.

“GO!”

The Separatists charged him, knives flashing.

Orannus kicked out and knocked one away from the first Separatist, and dodged a stab with another. He slammed his elbow into the Zabrak’s face. He pushed the stunned Zabrak into the way of the third guy. He deflected a punch from the first guy and backtracked, swinging his rifle around.

Their bodies dropped.

Orannus leaned against a rock and sighed.

_Just get to the base. Meet Havoc. Ask them what the hell they were thinking._

Another crunch of grass. Right behind him.

He leapt forward and whirled, ready to shoot-

The same beast as before, now with ever more grass in his mouth.

_Stars and moons. I almost shot a- whatever this is._

“Hiya again, friend.”

It once against stared blankly at him.

Orannus patted the beast’s head and scrambled up the rock outcrop. He paused and looked back down at the beast. “Don’t tell any Separatists you saw me, okay?”

And the beast didn’t respond.

“Thank you.”

Orannus paused, and looked up at the hill before him. Peeking out from over the lip of a cliff was a familiar flag that spoke of safety.

Fort Garnik.


End file.
